


honey belongs to me

by musiclily88



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Gayyyyyyy, M/M, Magical Realism, Maybe - Freeform, Stupid shit, and everyone has a power, magic is real woohoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 11:02:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16262861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musiclily88/pseuds/musiclily88
Summary: “Someone has the power to know other people’s worst fears, but that’s it.”





	honey belongs to me

**Author's Note:**

> “Someone has the power to know other people’s worst fears, but that’s it.”
> 
> Prompt thanks to my ex-gf who hates most of my fandoms hahahaha oh well thanks babe

Harry bites his lip as Kyra makes eye contact with him in the cashier line at Tesco.

_I’m having your baby,_ he hears, bright and loud as a bell, which makes him frown.

Because, like. It’s a bit insulting, is what it is.

He sighs, setting his kiwi, zucchini, Pinot Gris, and condoms onto the conveyor belt. Kyra continues to meet his eyes, brows furrowing a bit as she scans his items, bagging them slowly. Life is anything but fair, he supposes, smiling brightly at her as he slips his card into the chip-and-pin.

If life were fair, he wouldn’t be able to hear everyone’s greatest fears.

:

 

Louis works his way through two shitty menthols while Harry watches him from the corner of his eye. They’re leaning against the wall, feigning like they’re casual. House parties aren’t exactly Harry’s favourite thing, but he’s showed up to support the football team, because Niall is and always has been his best friend. His best friend’s worst fear is dying alone, so he’s currently chatting up someone named Zayn while keeping an eye on someone else named Barbara.

Plus, Shawn’s across the room; Harry can tell.

Shawn’s afraid of being found out as a fraud, which Harry can appreciate more than not. Barbara doesn’t ever want to cry in front of anyone in public, while Zayn fears never being loved.

As for Liam, he hates being powerless.

As Harry wordlessly bums a cheap cigarette from Louis, he considers what Louis looks like. They’ve known one another for a few years, true, but they’ve never really _known_ each other.

Certainly not Biblically.

Harry smiles around the cigarette before he realizes that he can’t read Louis.

He just can’t read him at all.

He can’t figure out what Louis’ worst fear is, and suddenly, that becomes the worst thing he can imagine.

:

During the next party, he sidles up towards Louis and clinks their beer bottles together. Louis’s cigarette-free this time, his fingers peeling at the label of his beer.

They hum along to the music for a moment. Eventually, Harry bumps his shoulder into Louis’ and sniffs. “Hey.”

Louis blinks, a slow smile growing on his lips. “Yeah? Hey.”

They each take a sip of beer, but Harry takes the next move. He swallows his beer and gestures with the bottle towards the rest of the back garden they’re standing in. “You afraid of the dark?”

“Nope.” Louis shakes his head and snorts. “Not afraid of you, either.”

“What are you afraid of?” Harry asks, voice needling, beer sweaty in his grasp.

“None of your business.”

:

Harry doesn’t know what his own worst fear is, either, which is why he shows up on Louis’ doorstep with biscuits and a Thermos of tea.

He thinks maybe his fear is rejection. Or, well, it’s on the list, at least. But his biggest annoyance, his biggest frustration, is that he can’t know his own greatest fear.

He has a blanket on the center console of his car, folded up tight in case Louis changes his mind.

:

So far, neither one of them has changed their minds.

 

Louis is kicked back against a tree, head knocked against the trunk with a Thermos lid of tea in his hand. His eyes are closed, and Harry smiles while he watches the slow, gentle movements of his face.

“I love you.”

Louis snorts. “You don’t know me.”

“Yeah,” Harry agrees. “But I kind of love you.”

Louis sighs, chugging the rest of his tea. “That’s your thing, then?”

“No. What’s yours?”

“No way. Not telling.”

Harry furrows his brows, knowing that his nose and mouth are furrowing too. “Then—how’d you know what my thing is, then? If all I said was—” He stops short, biting his bottom lip. “You’re afraid of being loved.”

Louis laughs hard before dumping out his tea. “You need to drive me home now.”

:

So, rejection isn’t his greatest fear, then, because he survives it pretty well. He redoubles his efforts to win Louis over, to make him laugh, to gain his trust.

He wants to love Louis more earnestly than he’s ever wanted anything in his life.

And he fears he can’t ever, not really, love anyone.

:

“Is it…getting convinced to agree to a suicide pact?”

“Good god, go away!” Louis flicks his fringe out of his eyes, and everyone knows he only does this when he’s truly irritated.

Harry bites at his lower lip. “Is it that you’ll join a cult and someone charismatic will convince you to murder Sharon Tate?”

_“No,”_ he growls. “At this moment in time, my fear is that I’ll murder you for being an obnoxious twat, and we all know I’m too pretty for prison. So, if you’ll excuse me.” He shoves gently against Harry’s shoulder and hefts his bag higher onto his shoulder.

“That’s actually kind of a misogynistic view of—”

Louis rounds on him, poking a finger directly into his chest. “This is harassment, and I want you to leave me the _fuck alone.”_

:

Harry leaves him alone for a while, chastened that he was perhaps harassing someone, particularly someone he found so attractive.

Not that any of that was the point, really, because Louis certainly deserved his privacy.

 

But it all drives Harry mad, the not-knowing of it.

 

Something about it seems to drive Louis mad eventually, too, because he rounds on Harry as he exits his Econ class on a Thursday night. Harry curses and nearly throws his knapsack at Louis, because his self-protective instincts are fairly strong, but eventually his pulse settles and he can look Louis in the eye without grimacing.

“What’s your damage?”

Harry sighs, dropping his head so that his chin hits his chest. “Sorry.”

“No, like—the obsession. What’s that? Is it just me you’re stalking, or everyone who won’t answer your pestering questions?”

“Just you,” Harry answers into his own fuzzy green jumper.

“Oh God, that’s worse.”

“What?” Harry’s head snaps up, and he knows his eyes look wild. “How is that worse?”

“Becau—I’ve never done anything to you!” Louis crows, tossing his own bag down onto the floor.

“I can’t fucking read you! And it’s pissing me off.” Harry sighs, running a hand through his hair, yanking it a bit too hard. “I don’t even know what your own power is, all right? And mine doesn’t work on you, and it’s _pissing me off.”_

Louis clicks his tongue once before narrowing his eyes. “That’s not my fucking problem.”

:

Harry sees Louis at another house party, this one a little mellower than the others they’ve run across one another at. Harry immediately holds up both his hands in surrender, even though his left is clutching a blue Solo cup full of way too much rum and only a little bit of Coke.

“Truce.”

Louis tips his head to one side and quirks up his lips. He rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling, and Harry considers that a sign that he won’t immediately meet violence upon his person.

“Truce,” Louis agrees. “You can’t be inherently a dick if Niall actually invites you out places, so. Yeah.”

Harry beams. “Let’s get food tomorrow! How about waffles?”

Louis heaves a sigh before slurping from his drink. “I refuse to wake up before eleven, and I prefer omelets.”

“Brilliant.”

“And you’re paying.”

:

They end up meeting at two at a place called The Pick-Me-Up, and half of the menu is vegan. Harry looks at Louis suspiciously, wondering if he’s being set up, but then he watches Louis order a very large Bloody Mary, and the illusion is lost.

“You’re ridiculous.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “I’m hungover, is all.”

“Nah, I meant it in a cute way.”

“I’m too hungover for cute.”

Harry shrugs, taking a sip of his mimosa. “Can’t help my nature.”

“Christ, why are you like this?”

“Again. Can’t help my nature.”

Louis sighs. “You’re buying, and therefore you get, like, one vague question that I have every right to refuse.”

“Deal.”

“Obviously.”

Harry purses his lips just before he clenches his jaw. “What’s your power?”

“Ah.” Louis leans back, a small smile on his face. “I’ll give you this not because you deserve it, but because I actually kinda feel bad for you at this point.” He inhales a bit, smile still in place. “Plus, you’re cute.”

“Thanks?” Harry raises a brow.

“Yeah. Well, I, uh. I know people’s greatest desire.”

Harry holds his breath.

“And I know I’m yours.”

**Author's Note:**

> song title from Hozier because I LOVE HIM he is my witch mother


End file.
